Seeing Like a Screenwriter

Good fiction sets off a vivid and continuous dream in the reader's mind.  -- novelist John Gardner

When I write a screenplay, I describe a movie that's already been shot.   -- screenwriter Robert Towne.

2006 is shaping up as a banner year in quality fiction -- quite the crop of heavy-hitters, with new novels released by Ishiguro, Roth, Cormac McCarthy, one bonafide "new" masterpiece (the late Irene Nemirovsky's Suite Francaise), the long-awaited second novel by Charles Frazier (Cold Mountain) imminent and even Pynchon's next gigantoid tome due in December. 

But it's truly been a stellar year in books about writing.  Sure, how-to and critical screeds are ubiquitous, but I doubt we're going to do better any time soon than 2006's one-two knockout punches of 13 Ways of Looking at the Novel by Jane Smiley and now, Francine Prose's Reading Like a Writer.

I've already touted the Smiley here, which is a massive work to savor and graze through over time.  Reading Like a Writer: A Guide For People Who Love Books and For Those Who Want to Write Them  is a book I inhaled in a couple of days.

The simple premise of Prose on prose (sorry, that was unavoidable) is: to learn how to write, read the masters.   Not an unheard of supposition, and the fun here arises from "reading along with Francine" and getting into her expert, savvy analysis of different craft issues as they arise in writers as diverse as Chekhov and Gary Shteyngart.  But I couldn't help thinking, as I read (in between gnashing teeth and rending clothing over how my own fiction seemed to diminish, page by page, in comparison), that I've yet to read a cinematic equivalent, a "Watching Like a Filmmaker" book that would do the same for screenwriters.

For example, Prose quotes Chekhov on how a telling detail can totally enliven and illuminate the reality of a transcribed moment:

"You will get the full effect of a moonlit night if you write that on the mill dam, a little glowing starpoint flashed from the neck of a broken bottle, and the round black shadow of a dog emerged and ran..."

Similarly, here's a bit from Shane Black's opening screenplay page of The Long Kiss Goodnight:

A bed, dappled with moon shadow.  A LITTLE GIRL, fast asleep...

And there's MOM, kneeling beside her.  Vague shape in the dimness.  The full moon throws light across one sparkling eye.

Painting with light -- the  same principles apply.  God in the details, whether at the service of art or box office.

I've been teaching a course in Cinematic Storytelling at UCLA Extension that's all over this turf.  The premise is, following the Robert Towne edict quoted above, that screenwriters should see the movie in their minds and then get these visions on the page, i.e. write scripts that fully utilize the whole arsenal of filmic technique (lighting, editing, set design, et al), so that a reader "sees the movie" as well.  It's kind of a crash course in film direction and filmmaking for writers.

The seemingly heretical (to some) subtext here is that a screenplay can be pre-directed -- that instead of "leaving the visuals to the director" (let alone the aurals, thematic image systems, etc.), the alert and imaginative writer can imbue his/her writing with enough use of the medium to hand any director a fully realized vision on a platter -- to make a script, in a sense, moviemaker-friendly and/or director-proof.

How?  Without hideously over-writing, and alienating prospective talents?  I'll show you in microcosm, with an example I employed in Writing the Romantic Comedy.  Here's a way to suggest how the camera should deal with a character's dramatic entrance in an imaginary movie -- without ever using one word of camera terminology:

At the far end of the cavernous ballroom, the silhouette of a tall thin figure appears in the doorway.

It's clear how Bean "Pole" Baxter earned her nickname as her heels pause on the threshold and the silver barette in her hair grazes the top of the doorframe.

The tiny crescent-moon scar under her left eye seems to glow in the light from the open door.

Obviously, that's long shot, medium shot and close-up.  But not only are the camera positions merely implied, there's still plenty of room for inventive directors to do with it what they will (e.g. though the separation of lines on the page suggests a 1-2-3 cutting pattern, a Scorsese-like "Look Ma, no hands!" show-off might choose to whiz from long to close in one virtuoso tracking shot or zoom).

All of this has been on my mind of late in the wake of looking at the late Sven Nykvist's work, because he made choices in his lighting and shooting that were, on some level, much like the revisions and re-interpretations of a master screenwriter working on a draft. 

Coincidentally -- better, synchronistically -- I just perused a dialogue going on in the scribosphere between Mystery Man on Film and the Unknown Screenwriter (and their readers) that got me thinking about this from another angle.  Mystery Man's manifesto posits in part that screenwriters ought to share more about their craft issues, competition be damned; Unknown's worthy rant in response notes, along the way, that screenwriters would do well to school themselves in how to create solid, movie-able concepts, with niceties of craft a secondary consideration.

Amen to all of that, I say, but what it brought up for me is an ever-present issue in teaching screenwriting and storytelling.  Sometimes -- an uncomfortable truth that must be told -- I find that I'm trying to teach finer points of craft to writers who have yet to grasp fundamentals.  So what's the point?  If a writer doesn't even know how to construct a working story, isn't talking to them about "painting with light" like rearranging window seats on the Hindenburg?

These are the kinds of thoughts (among others) that keep one up at 3 a.m. on an insomniac night, and Unknown's post brings them out in the clear light of day.  But having had some time to muse on Why We Do What We Do, I offer this defense of teaching cinematic storytelling, in the form of three observations about its purpose and application.

1) Screenplays are a sell.  The old "screenplay as blueprint" saw is a valid one, and what any screenwriter's trying to do when they go out with a script, is convince readers that there is a movie there.  So any technique a writer can apply that will enable a reader to see a movie is a valuable one.

2) Visions are viral.  The imaginative screenwriter wants to get across his/her personal vision as clearly and specifically as possible.  If you use filmic technique on the page -- editing with sentence syntax, set-dressing with a carefully chosen adjective, etc. -- you up your chances of the reader seeing the same images you see in your head.  An imaginative vision engagingly expressed plants that exact vision in someone else's mind.

3) The medium is the message.  Finally, writing with light -- dealing in images -- speaks to the very heart of film.  If you can use a color to express a thematic idea, you're using the medium in the way it was meant to be used.  If you employ rhythm to create mood, use an active, vivid gesture to express character... that's moviemaking.  Using exterior elements to express an inner life is central to what cinema is about (as opposed to fiction's ability to write from the inside out), so... why not learn how to do it well? 

So see like a screenwriter, I say.  Watch like a filmmaker.  Whether Scott Silver, the screenwriter of 8 Mile, used the words that suggested these images to cinematographer Rodrigo Pietro (in collaboration with director Curtis Hanson), is actually moot; what's important, in terms of deepening your craft, is what the images suggest to you, for your work to come.  What words would evoke your characters as say, shadows before the blaze?

What words would suggest say, the light of love bursting between them?

Study the visions of light that a Nykvist, Storaro and Willis have set before us.  How would you utilize what illuminates their imagery, to make your own dreams real?

The significance of a dream, we're told, has less to do with its overt drama than with the details; a long time ago it struck me that the same was true of real life, of what passes among us for real life.

-- Gregoire Bouillier

Comments

[E.C. Henry]

Don't ever discount the affect you can have on others, Billy. Sorry if some of us (me, E.C. Henry) don't get your advice right off the bat. Work in process, the learning curve. It's gotta be hard to work with apprentices constantly, when you, yourself, are a master reader. Your patience is appreciated.

For me the struggle in writing screenplays is the idea to spec. script transition, ie. how much to break a scene down and express my vision of the emotional aspects in a scene. As a writer dedicated to making a story as good as it can be finding the emotional hooks in scenes becomes easier and easier as you rewrite/rethink it. I just need a pro's POV to give me the confidence that, yes, this is the way you do that and not piss eveyone off in the industry in the process.

Anyway, will print your blog off and re-read it at lunch at work today. Good stuff. Thanks.

- E.C. Henry from Bonney Lake, WA

[Robert Grant]

I've often wondered why that book doesn't exist and I think the reason is this. The only one I've ever tried to read was a dull-as-dishwater film school text book that sucked the fun right out of ever wanting to watch a movie ever again.

Great book by the way, and nice blog.

Cheers!

Rob

[Unk]

Billy (can I call you Billy?),

How right you are. I cannot tell you how many wasted pages of notes I've made for "would be" screenwriters only to immediately find out they have no idea what the notes even mean which immediately translates to a writer who has yet straddle the baseline I was ranting about.

I receive a daily barrage of email that consist of nothing more than simple complaints.

MY SCRIPT IS BETTER THAN WHAT'S IN THE THEATER, WHY CAN'T I SELL IT?

Or my favorite consistent type of email:

I DIDN'T QUALIFY IN BLAH BLAH CONTEST, SHOULD I JUST QUIT WRITING?

You get the idea...

Every once in a while AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGEMENT, I go ahead and take a look at these screenplays that should have won contests and or be playing at your local cinema.

Uh... No.

Baseline? More like FLATLINE.

I won't even talk about subtle differences in describing a character or location so that your reader creates said character or location in their mind's eye.

Why?

Because 9 out of 10 screenplays I go ahead and read have 25 to 100 typos in them. Incorrect format (and oh how I am lenient on format). No structure to speak of. Yada yada yada.

I normally contact these individuals and as nice as I can, explain to them that they need to START FROM SCRATCH. Toss everything out the window they THINK they know and start over with the basics and if that means taking a class, so be it. If you can do it with a book, great. BUY THE BOOK.

In other words, I see a lot of the "I CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT" syndrome when in fact, it's obvious these writers failed to perform their own due diligence when it comes to LEARNING about the craft of screenwriting.

On top of that, I then find out that with my callous and pompous (at least that's what they tell me) review of their screenplay, it turns out that SCREENWRITING was no more than a "passing fancy."

Of course they failed to let ME know that when I agreed to read the screenplay and write up a couple of hours worth of notes that they will very likely never read.

If it sounds like I'm whining, I AM.

I could have banged out several screenplays in the same amount of time and effort I've given THOSE that claim SCREENWRITING IS THEIR LIFE. LOL.

But that's okay because I elected to make that decision (thanks Michael Mann) and now it is payday.

Every one of those stinking screenplays TAUGHT me how to become a better screenwriter so in the end the reading and the writing of notes was ultimately worth the trouble.

For me.

I love what you've said here and I will send as many readers of my blog over here to read what you've written because it is that important:

1) Screenplays are a sell.
2) Visions are viral.
3) The medium is the message.

Read between the lines... Good stuff.

Unk

[mernitman]

EC, we aim to please.

Welcome, Rob: Glad you enjoyed. There IS a book called "Cinematic Storytelling" (Jennifer Van Sijll, Michael Wiese Press) that's pretty good...

Welcome, Unk: And thanks for the rant; believe me, I have been there and back (and yet live to tell the tale)...

[Miriam Paschal]

Thanks for a great post! I do this all the time. On the way to work I see the sun rising over the mountains to the east and try to work out ways to describe what it looks like.

When I'm at the mall I watch the body language of a couple as they bicker quietly to see how it strikes my eye.

And on and on. I think all cinematic images have some kind of beauty, even when the film is set in a slum or a prison, because somebody took the time to compose the shot. They thought about each element and how it would look in context with all the other elements.

The trick is to find the beauty in anything you look at.

[Susan]

Great Post! Thank you.

[Mystery Man]

Give me one more shout-out, Billy, and I swear, I'll have to propose to you. Hehehe...

The point that upsets me so much is that, as a community, we screenwriters refuse to talk to each other (or blog about) a craft that we all love so much, a craft that is complicated, mysterious, multi-faceted, and yet, endlessly fascinating. Who cares if you post on your blog the things you've studied? All that means is that you know stuff. How well you APPLY what you know to your own stories is a vastly different matter altogether. The truth is, you grow by studying and talking to other writers. You're doing yourself and your stories a disservice by keeping it all to yourself.

With respect to lighting - on one level, an amateur reading this might think Billy is suggesting that the scribes should indulge in flowery writing in the action lines. Is that what he's really doing? It's flowery if it's pointless. But a master craftsman writes of sets, colors, and lighting in ways (subtlety, suggestively) that he KNOWS will visually serve his story. What we're talking about here is nothing less than master craftsmanship.

But yet it's complicated. I readily acknowledge that there are truly brilliant cinematographers in the biz, and if they have different visual ideas that might serve the story better, I will absolutely let the brilliant person do a brilliant job. We writers are such a pain sometimes, I think, because we haven't studied the craft ENOUGH.

This is such a great post, Billy.

-MM

[Mystery Man]

I'm happy to report that inspired by me and Unk, "Shares Dream World – The Craft of Screenwriting"...

http://sharesdreamworld.blogspot.com/

...has been created and they will be studying Inciting Incidents.

-MM

[mernitman]

Miriam: ...and anything you hear...

Susan you're welcome.

Mystery Man: "It's ALIVE!"

[Janet]

Thank you thank you thank you professor.

I'm off to get the required texts.

[jess]

I've had a few writing teachers tell me that if i even *try* to do the director's job for them, even by getting a little creative with my stage directions, i will be publically sacrificed...

and then they'll throw my script away.

I too, have also read many, MANY horrible scripts. (when i wasn't filing, getting coffee, depositing huge amounts of cash at giant banks with 80 floors and security guards that have to press the elevator button for you...) But the difference is, most of the shitty stuff I read was already in production.

...sometimes, that made me mad.
But then, I'd buy myself a muffin or something and everything would be alright again.

[mernitman]

Janet: And will you be wanting some oatmeal with that?

Jess: Exactly. A good muffin can make all the difference (and don't get me started on Those Writing Teachers...)